


Paths Carved in Ice

by Mythros_Cat



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 03:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18202712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythros_Cat/pseuds/Mythros_Cat
Summary: Death is an end, but sometimes a beginning whether you want it or not.  A death knight's journey learning what it really means to live, after dying and how even giving your life for an oath doesn't stop your duty there.





	1. He Who Walks Alone

With unholy force the blade sank in, hitting home on its’ intended target. Metal tore through flesh and muscle with strange ease as that pale frosty aura lined the blade. In its’ wake the skin and muscle seemed to burn from the sheer cold of it. There was the barest hesitation as metal met bone before that too yielded and the limb detached entirely mere seconds later. Blood sprayed forward and coated the snowy ground as more dripped from that glowing blade. The fiend staggered for a moment before stumbling backward, seemingly in shock. Ice blue eyes narrowed as the elf watched the cultist fall back, stilling at last. Red painted the snow as much as his armor and weapons and for a moment Zanthaen’s mind drifted. Back to another time when his will was not his own.

~~~

All around him screams of terror and suffering echoed across the battlefield. The clang of swords and clashing of weapons rang out joining the cacophony of sounds. Blood soaked the ground underfoot as the smell of death rose to join the festering rot of the Scourge’s forces. Abominations and all manner of necrotic husks fought on mindlessly taking delight in the carnage while the armor plated knights controlling them took their own victims with relish.

Before him another fell, blood soaking their armor as their entrails fell from the open gash where once skin and muscle had been. The body landed with a sickening thud, the wet squelch of organs and metal meeting as the last breath left them. Glowing blue eyes looked down ominously as Zanthaen looked upon his kill. No emotion crossed his blood spattered face as he raised one of the two swords above the carcass willing the magic to take hold.

A twitch came first, then a shudder as the body began to reanimate with a new purpose as dark power flowed through it. Skin discolored as he watched bits falling off of it as the shambling horror rose to crouch before Zanthaen, ever the obedient servant. Blank unseeing eyes stared ahead as it waited for its’ masters orders. Zanthaen lowered the sword as he saw two more of the red garbed crusade coming his way. The blood elf’s face twisted into a mockery of a smile as his lips twisted upward.

“Kill them, leave none alive,” he ordered with that strange echoing tone that had come with his undeath, “Claim their lives for the Lich King.”

The risen ghoul gave a gurgling shriek in reply before it shifted to leap at the nearest of the two crusaders. The man had the faintest moment of being caught off guard at the sight of his former comrade now turned undead lunging at him. In that moment a sound of horror and shock left his mouth as the freshly made beast bore down upon him. Vile rot dripped from the thing’s mouth as the crusader blocked with a shield. Sliding down the metal it clung, viscous and mixed with what had been the fresh blood left in the body. The smell alone was revolting amplified by the sight of it and it took all the crusader had in him to not wretch himself.

The other meanwhile came for Zanthaen with a ferocious battle cry. One sword came up to block the scarlet crusader’s strike while the other channeled forth dark magics that swirled around the hilt of his second blade. Grasping talons of ice and darkness burst forth stealing the man’s very breath from him as it wound around his throat. Zanthaen took that moment of stunned silence to his advantage. Both swords flashed out in that instant not needing to block anymore. One carved it’s path along the lessly guarded throat of the crusader while the other tore along the man’s stomach. The crusader’s sword and shield fell as hands went to his wounds, the body following to the ground mere seconds later. 

A gurgle slid free as the icy talons released him in time to frantically gasp and try to draw last breaths in. Blood welled up from the wounds and out his mouth as wide eyes looked up to the bringer of death. Every bit the imposing figure the blood elf stood before his dying prey. Dark plate armor emblazoned with the skulls and marks of the scourge covered pale skin while long blueish black hair billowed out with the cloak behind him. Those blue eyes, glowing so vibrantly like the ice that had stolen the man’s breath watched as this one too fell to death’s door so easily.

Zanthaen looked away from the pitiful sight of the man clutching his torn throat. All around him the tide of the battle was going in their favor. In ‘his’ favor if one was honest. With a flick of his blades to shake some of the extra blood off Zanthaen left the ghoul to its’ victim and waded back off into battle once more.

~~~

Countless innocents had fallen before him, countless members of the Scarlet Crusade as well. He’d been a champion of the Scourge, back then at least. A remorseless killing machine for his master the Lich King. A tool to be used to who felt nothing and followed orders. For a moment he saw the flash of an innocent face cross his vision in place of the cultist before him. He paused for a moment before he frowned. No, he reminded himself, this was no innocent and it was different now. True enough he still hardly felt anything but there was a sense of a job well done knowing this was one less threat that could try and revive the old ways. To make more of the undead bent on destruction and carnage. Though it would never erase the past or the blood staining his very soul.

Zanthaen sighed as he looked down at the body. Once they would have been working together. That life felt so strangely far away from him now, farther still the life he had before that. Before he had died. He exhaled before he reached down to wipe the blades clean on the cultist’s robes. With them safely in place at his hips again he turned to look out over the snowy distance before him. Dragonblight had not changed much and yet he wasn’t sure what had brought him back here. Zanthaen shook his head as he whispered, “Once I thought you foolish but you may yet be right. Perhaps I am sentimental. Though I am not fit for the warmth of the city, not anymore.”

With one last glance cast to the corpse he turned and started off. There was a settlement not far that had been held by the Horde. If it still stood he would find a moment’s respite there before continuing on, moving forward until word came from his fellow Knights of the Ebon Blade that he was needed once more.


	2. Fragments of the Past

Agmar’s Hammer hadn’t changed much truly in the time since Zanthaen had been there last. The dark metal walls lined with spikes and fires spread round still stood out amidst the forest. Some of the faces were different, that much the death knight had expected though. He earned a few odd looks at first which was also something Zanthaen had anticipated. If his eyes weren’t a dead giveaway then the armor certainly was or perhaps the deathcharger at his side. Dark and with the occasional skull etched and emblazoned onto the plate armor he was an intimidating figure. The dual blades at his hips were wickedly edged and glowing dimly. The pale skin and stern countenance further solidified that he was not someone to be trifled with. 

A few conversations paused as they strode by and into the heart of the camp. Blue eyes looked around noting the differences he could easily see before plate armored feet started off again to carry him to the inn. If Zanthaen had paid more attention in the past he would have recognized the innkeeper to be the same but he’d tried to make his prior stays as short as possible. Ever since his death and rebirth he’d never quite felt comfortable with the bustling cities, or even the smaller settlements. Still he made his way inside and after a few short words had a bed for the night and a spot in the stable for his steed. 

Zanthaen frowned as he set his pack down. Calling it a bed was truly a stretch. The death knight was of the opinion ‘fishnet hammock’ would have been a more accurate description. Still it was his for the evening and would be better than sleeping unguarded in the elements. While some of the threats had been dealt with in the time since the Lich King’s fall it didn’t mean all the dangerous elements were gone. Especially those that took great offense at the part the Knights of the Ebon Blade played in their former master’s downfall. Those not so unlike the cultist Zanthaen had run across on his way here.

With his pack settled and his swords propped within easy arm’s reach the death knight drew himself onto the hammock. Zanthaen didn’t lay down at first, instead he sat thinking over the last time he’d been here. Before the Lich King’s fall. It seemed so long ago now and he’d seen so many places since. After consigning himself to the Horde like so many of his fellow death knights had he’d been stationed where they needed him. Where they needed a merciless killing machine. Zanthaen frowned, a brief wandering thought of whether he truly belonged there. Yes, his Sin’dorei brethren were there, from before his fall but did he truly belong with them either at this point. The death knight’s pale lips turned down in a frown. With a quiet exhale he laid back, shoving such musings from his mind. He didn’t really need the sleep, not like so many others but it was familiar and afforded him quiet,and peace. Zanthaen felt the hammock swing just a bit as he settled in before he let blue eyes slide shut to feel oblivion claim him.

~~~

The sun lit the woods in glorious splendor. Golds and bright greens and reds seemed to shimmer as the light’s rays struck them. The forest had always been vibrant, ethereal really and it’s beauty was not lost on it’s people. Bright blue eyes looked over it once more as if he’d never truly seen it before. Those vibrant eyes that marked all of his people.

“You’re being sentimental again,” a voice called out with a quiet laugh and Zanthaen felt his own lips curve up in amusement. The paladin turned to face his friend that grin only growing as he saw the smaller girl beside him. 

“Tetherys and Solienne,” he welcomed with a wide gesture of his arms, “Who else should I expect to see when one accuses me of being sentimental.”

The little girl giggled almost shyly as she hid behind her big brother. Tetherys himself laughed before he moved up to grasp Zanthaen’s hand in a firm shake.

“None other my friend, none other,” the ranger agreed, “I was just teaching young Solienne here the finer points of tracking and it seems we’ve found our quarry.”

“Oh?” Zanthaen asked as he looked down to the smaller girl. She was seemingly caught out, a hint of red on her cheeks before she gave a tiny nod.

“Would I be the prey you sought to hunt fair huntress in training?” Zanthaen pressed as he knelt down, “Well then my congratulations on a successful hunt and what will it be for your prize?”

The girl blushed almost as red as her hair before looking back down to the ground. Her ears bobbed as they too grew to be an almost equal shade of red. Tetherys laughed, “Ah I fear you’ve succeeded in turning her as red as the ripest of berries my friend. Whatever shall we do?”

Zanthaen’s arm came out to playfully swat at his friend before he rose and moved down closer to where Solienne stood. “It was not my intention to upset you, though you do have my congratulations for a hunt well done. Perhaps at a later date you may choose your reward.”

She looked up at him, blue eyes wide as the blush intensified. In her mind there was no one more handsome. His long dark hair, lightly sun kissed skin and brilliant plate armor signifying him as one of the blood knights. She had been smitten upon first meeting him and that crush had only intensified over the years her elder brother had been his friend. Solienne gave a tiny squeak and a nod before she looked to Tetherys. Her mouth opened once as if to say something before she shut it and with another nod bolted back off toward the city.

“Will she be alright?” Zanthaen asked, a sliver of worry in his tone as he looked to his friend.

“Indeed, she knows well the way through the wood. In fact I did not lie when I said she tracked you here. Though my friend you frequent the same spot regularly,” Tetherys shrugged as he moved to plop onto the grass below. 

“She’s had a good teacher then,” the paladin countered as he moved back over to join his friend. 

“You know she still has hearts in her eyes for you,” Tetherys teased as he mimicked a love struck swooning lady, “Her knight in shining armor.”

“I had suspected as much, though should you really tease her over such?” 

“I’m her brother, it’s my job,” Tetherys retorted with a smirk before he sobered some. 

Zanthaen paused at that. The ranger was usually jovial and light hearted, for him to look so serious was concerning. The paladin sighed quietly, his own mood slipping to a more serious one.

“It was to spare her ears this talk was it not?” Zanthaen asked as he suspected why Tetherys had been so quick to get his sister back home and unawares.

The red haired ranger gave a nod as he turned to look out over the forest. “It was,” he confirmed, “There are reports, you’ve likely seen them. An army of undead coming this way.”

“I had, but they say they are still well away and possibly not coming this direction.”

“Then you haven’t received the latest report,” Tetherys sighed with a frown. He reached into his satchel and pulled the latest of the ranger’s scouting reports from it before he offered it to Zanthaen. The paladin took it eagerly, an unease beginning to churn in his gut.

“They’ve amassed more forces and they’re coming this way now?” Zanthaen asked, voice barely over a whisper once he’d read it.

“They are. We are to inform all those of the defense units to be expecting an attack in a few days time at the earliest. Though if they wish to incite fear before attacking they may well wait. After all it’s an army of… dead and rotted husks, that would unsettle most of the staunchest defenders.”  
“It would,” Zanthaen agreed as he offered the scroll back to Tetherys, “I’ll ensure my men are ready and prepared to fight. The defenses should hold but it does not suit to be ill prepared or cocky.”

He turned looking out over the forest once more. This was his home, these were his people and he’d taken an oath to protect and defend them both with his life. His vision faltered for a moment and he swore he could see a path of destruction carving through the forest for the briefest of moments. When he blinked it was gone and the forest was there unscathed. A hand rested on Zanthaen’s plate armored shoulder which drew his attention back to his friend.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Tetherys asked with a tinge of concern, “Are you well?”

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” Zanthaen answered as he tried to put a reassuring smile on his face. It did not reach deep though as he was truly unsettled by that vision and thoughts of what was to come.

~~~

Blue eyes shot open staring blindly ahead. Plated hands clenched into fists as he forced himself to inhale and exhale steadily. Why had he dreamed that, no not a dream. A memory. Why had his mind chosen to replay that scene. Zanthaen lay there wondering over it. Had it been because he’d been thinking of sentimentality? Had it been remembering the last days before his death? It was so hard to say and yet for the first time in a while he felt a pang in his chest. A desire for something. For the first time since he’d broken from the Lich King’s control he found himself wanting to go home. He wanted to see those forests once more, even if only to remind himself that at least some still stood. To remind himself what he still fought for.


End file.
